J. Tomlin - The Templar's Cross

Law pondered the slice of meat he had impaled on the point of his sgian-dubh. “You wanted to talk to me to tell me that?”

Meldrum stuck the entire leg into his mouth, stripped off the meat, chewed and swallowed. He dropped the bone onto the flat bannock that served as his trencher. “That is part of it.”

“Does Sir William ken that you’re here?”

Meldrum snorted. “I dinnae need him to tell me my every move. He judges at the assize. I run the watch and catch the malefactors. And if you’re wise, you’ll nae be telling him.”

“So you’re here to catch me as a malefactor? Is that it?”

“If that was what I was after, we’d not be sitting here at a meal that I paid for.” Meldrum scowled and chopped the hen in half with his knife. “You’d think that we wanted to hang you. Though I cannae find any way around it if it comes to that. There was nothing personal in what was said or in giving you a few slaps. You’d think you’d ne’er had worse.”

“With all the trouble I’ve had, what’s a little more? Aye, I cannot argue with that.” Law stuffed the slice of chicken in his mouth and slowly chewed. “Have there been any more bodies found?”

“None that were murders. An old biddy died yesterday, but nothing to worry the watch. Listen, Sir William kent that you did not kill your friend, Duncan. What else was he going to do but put pressure on you to tell what happened that you’d held back? So you should let that go and help us.”

“Aye?” Law filled his cup with ale and gazed into it for a moment. “How does he ken that I didn’t do it? Why would you think I didn’t?” He hadn’t considered that Meldrum would actually learn something or make the effort, but perhaps he was wrong.

Meldrum leaned forward on his arms, thrusting his face near Law. “The other man we found, de Carnea as you named him, might have stabbed Duncan.”

“So you think that is what happened.”

“If Duncan was following him and he had aught to hide, that would explain the killing. He had a dagger that could have made the wound. But I believe he died before Duncan, from the stiffening of his body had when we found him. Would Duncan have killed him?” He shook his head. “If de Carnea had something valuable, Duncan might have killed him to steal it and then gotten killed for the same reason: because someone else wanted what he had.”

“Believe me, I’ve thought of that. But Duncan was no assassin to slit a man’s throat with a dagger. He would have cut de Carnea down with his sword. And believe me, he could have.” Law tugged at his lower lip. “Which leaves my question unanswered. Why have you decided I did nae do the killing?”

Meldrum savagely tore a bite off the half of the hen he held and chewed, his face ruddy with irritation. He swallowed and cursed. “I dinnae believe there was time for you to kill de Carnea and reach Blackfriars Monastery to kill Duncan. And you had nae quarreled with either, and kent you would be suspected. But you’d still be an easy man to blame, so you’d be wise to tell the rest of what you are holding back.

“If you tell me everything, I’ll use my watch to help you investigate. I think we can make sure the sheriff goes with a more likely suspect if we can find one.” He shrugged. “I don’t feel right about an innocent man hanging if I could have done something about it.”

Law nodded thoughtfully.

“Whatever I think, it won’t keep you from hanging because Sir William means to keep the king sweet unless we come up with evidence it was someone else.” Meldrum shook his head at Law’s smile. “I did find some information about de Carnea. But I expect your information in payment.”

Meldrum’s cunning blue gaze was fixed on Law’s face. “I talked to the monsignor at St. John’s Kirk. When I described the body to him, he said that a priest of that description had visited but left suddenly with no word.”

At Meldrum’s significant silence, Law burst out, “You said that you weren’t going to look for where de Carnea abided.”

“I didnae intend to but when the lord sheriff was in a lather about what the king would say about murders in his favored city, I decided to do some looking myself. The priest said that you hadn’t been there, so what I don’t ken is why you aren’t surprised that de Carnea stayed there.”

Law shrugged. By the time he considered talking to the priests at the Kirk of St. John, he’d already found the cross in the garden of the huge church. “I suspected he was a trickster of some sort. I wonder if he was truly a priest or passing himself off as one. Did they say he gave them that name?”

“They said he used the name that you gave us. De Carnea. Whether he was truly a priest or not…I doubt that it matters.”

Law poured both of them a cup of ale. He leaned back in his chair and swirled the liquid in his cup.

“And has anyone seen this Lord Blinsele as he called himself?”

Meldrum pushed his chair back and stood, fists clinched, eyes sharp and penetrating. “No. Not unless you’ve seen him. Now what is it you ken? There is something.”

“There is a Sassenach mixed up in this, which is something neither the king nor the sheriff would like. How he got past the border without the king’s men arresting him, I dinnae ken, but he is in Perth. And when I bring the lot of them together, I believe I can show the truth of what happened.”

Meldrum raised an eyebrow. “You only believe?”

Law gave a sharp nod. “I’ll make sure of it.”

When Meldrum left, the usual crowd of workmen had gathered, bent over their cups. Cormac played his clarsach and sang, but he broke off when Law closed the door and nodded toward a full-bellied man in a good woolen merchant’s gown, not one of their regulars and far too well dressed for the tavern.

The man rose from his seat, so Law smiled and bowed to him, but he held up a hand to ask for a moment. Law went to Cormac and asked, “Has any message come for me?”

“No, Sir Law.”

Law motioned for the waiting man to precede him to his room and closed the door. He was a maker and exporter of fine leathers that were shipped to the Low Country. Some bundles of leather had gone missing and he suspected one of his workers of conspiring with the thieves. When Law pointed out he was not part of the watch, the man said that the watch was too clumsy for such a job. He had been impressed with Law’s discretion at the inquest. Law hurried him out with a promise to call on him in two days to consider taking the job. At least there was the prospect, once this business was over, of enough work not to end up on the street.

As soon as the merchant had left, Cormac opened the door and came in. His fresh face was drawn up with worry. “You haven’t found either one of them, have you?”

Law unfastened his doublet and twisted to look at the bandage over his wound. He gently poked at it and flinched.

“How bad is it?” Cormac creased his forehead even more. “You haven’t wound fever, have you?”

“It’s not so gey bad, but it throbs like the devil.”

Cormac shoved Law with a hand on his chest to make him sit on the edge of the bed and squatted to examine the bandage. “You dinnae feel hot but I should look at this wound. There are a few spots of blood, so it’s still bleeding.” He untied the linen bandage and unwrapped it.

Law sighed. “There’s naught you can do. Either it heals or it doesnae and I die.”

“I have some yarrow poultice my mamaidh gave me when I left home. She used it on all our bad cuts and none of us died, so it might help.” He pulled a little pottery jar out and smeared the spicy-smelling stuff on the slash. “The skin is puffy around the cut, but I’ve seen worse when someone recovered.”